


Into the Fire

by SilverServerError



Category: CLAMP - Works, Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: M/M, cw non explicit animal death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 18:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11789325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverServerError/pseuds/SilverServerError
Summary: Taako won btw.





	Into the Fire

**Last week on Into the Fire, our chefs went head to head turning classics in to innovative, modern dishes. Sakura Kinomoto and Kurogane Suwa both had strong performances, but in the end their dishes were just too traditional. It was down to the wire, but in the end, last year’s winner, Watanuki Kimihiro cast the tie breaking vote. It was Miss Kinomoto who had to say goodbye, pouring her chances of winning into the flames. Join us this week, in a double elimination special as we challenge the chefs to work with each other to create a fusion experience. With competition getting this tight, you never know whose dish will fly out of the frying pan, into the fire.**

 

* * *

 

 

Fai watched her go with that familiar mix of relief and trepidation. One more round survived. One fewer weak opponents meaning he’d have to work even harder tomorrow.

 

Behind the judges table, the fire burned, bright and unnatural, more funeral pyre trying to escape its brickwork than an actual oven which was what the decor was pretending to be. Still, the soup sizzling on some hidden metal framework smelled delicious, even if the aroma was twisting around the gas fumes.

 

Some of the camera operators discretely moved to the positions for the next shot, show director Kakei quietly watching from the corner.

 

“Another chef eliminated,” Fuuma spoke, starting to walk down the line of competitors. Fai never knew how to feel about him. One minute he would play along with you. The next he’d be trying to psyche you out. “Another week closer to the finale.” That was his job though, Fai supposed. They were all just doing their jobs for the camera. “Another week closer to one of you getting the prize money and your very own show.” Still, Fai’s gut said not to trust him. “This week is going to be a little different.”

 

All down the line, the chefs eyed him with various amounts of  curiosity and dread.

 

The steps kept coming closer.

 

“This coming week, we’re not sending one chef home.” Closer. “ We’re sending two.”

 

Fai’s stomach jumped, and as Fuuma stopped directly in front of him, he fought to keep a soft smile on his face, even as Fuuma let the moment drag tortuously.

 

“Fai.”

 

“Yes?”

 

This never looked quite so intense on TV. He forced himself not to take a step back.

 

“You were our winner this week,” Fuuma eventually said, “So you’ll be the first to pick your partner.”

 

Partner?

 

And at last Fuuma stepped away, turning to the group as  a whole. “This week you cook, present, and face elimination as a pair.” He gestured to a bowl as Yuuko pulled it from under the judge’s table and set it front and center. “Fai?”

 

The sudden silence felt so wrong.

 

When he watched on TV there was always that tense little theme tune to make these moments more suspenseful, but of course that wouldn’t be added until post.

 

Fai didn’t need it though. His stomach was already in knots as he stepped forward and reached into the bowl of names. Somewhere in the rafters, spotlights turned to zero in on his hand. He felt each separate token, not even sure who he was hoping for, his last ally having just walked out the doors. He swallowed, glancing at the judges before forcing himself to pull one out and read it.

 

And his stomach dropped.

 

It took all of his self control to smile instead of wince.

 

He turned it around, large type perfect for the cameras, and read the name out loud.

 

“Kurogane!”

 

* * *

 

 

Later that night, Fai sat across from the young man, pencil in hand and trying not to let his fatigue show. They were the last set of partners still awake in the house, struggling to compromise on a menu as the camera men started to grow impatient. Fai could see it in the way they started to sag and kept checking the clock on the wall.

 

The very cruel clock that was now well past ten pm.

 

Maybe it’s a strategy, a tiny thought whispered in the back of his mind. They won’t keep you on the show if you look tired tomorrow. It’s not like you’re the only pretty, camp blonde in the world.

 

But no. Fai smiled over at his partner, once more taking in the young Japanese chef. Kurogane wore his heart on his sleeve. Right next to his stubbornness and apparently permanent bad mood. That kind of conniving would take subtlety, a thing Kurogane sorely lacked.

 

“It’s too much fluff.”

 

Fai kept the smile on, but if there was any one who truly knew him here, they’d know it was growing strained.

 

They’d probably laugh. His brother. Chii. Ashura. They’d find it so hilarious to watch Fai playing nice with the moody fish man when this was finally aired.

 

 _If_ this gets aired, he quickly reminded himself. Sitting around a table writing increasingly messy notes wasn’t exactly riveting television. He’d be lucky if this was more than a two second transitional shot.

 

Kurogane continued, “If the fish is good, it doesn't need a sauce. And it certainly doesn't need a garnish.”

 

“But that’s so…” Fatally boring? Fai frowned, as always aware of the camera, huge and jarring at the end of the table. “Minimalist.”

 

“And?” Kurogane raised an eyebrow, defensive and challenging behind his already crossed arms.

 

Fai laughed, trying to soften the blow, but growing so done with this kid. “Listen, if you really want to go home so bad, just make something deconstructed and call it a day. But please don't do it on a week I'm your teammate, okay Kurgs?”

 

Kurogane’s eyes narrowed at the nickname, shoulders growing tellingly tight.

 

Good, Fai thought to himself, indulging in a little pettiness after putting up with so much from him today. Get mad. Flex your big muscles. They’re the only thing keeping you on the show.

 

And instantly Fai felt bad. That wasn't true. The kid could cook. But his big stupid muscles and his big stupid shoulders and his stupid chiseled jawline probably didn't hurt.

 

“There's nothing wrong with presenting food simply when it’s good.”

 

“But that's not cooking. That's-” Fai shrugged, looking away and consciously making himself avoid the camera. “That's shopping.”

 

“In Japan-”

 

“We’re not _in_ Japan, Kurogane!”

 

The room fell suddenly quiet and even more uncomfortable, a feat Fai never would have believed was possible. He had said it too sharp. And he could see the angry storm brewing behind Kurogane’s wide eyes. And still the cameras rolled.

 

“Listen,” he cut in quickly, softer and extending an arm in a placating gesture. “I’m not trying to tell you how to cook. I'm trying to tell you how to win.”

 

For a moment Kurogane looked like he was going to say something, and Fai braced for impact. But then he sighed and looked away, broad, tan fingers running through his short black hair. “Let’s go to bed,” Kurogane said instead. More than a little defeated and sounding as tired as Fai felt. “This is stupid. We’re not getting anything done.” And with that, he got up, rolling his shoulders under his white T-shirt and starting to walk away.

 

And god, what a good idea that sounded like. But, “We need a menu.”

 

Kurogane stopped, audibly groaning, sharp and frustrated. Then he turned back over his shoulder. “You take dessert. I’ll do main. Who’s taking appetizers?”

 

Fai felt himself grow heavy. This wasn't… this wasn't how you won.

 

“Kurogane…” he said quietly.

 

But Kurogane was out of sympathy. “Pick one.”

 

Fai sank into his chair, knowing this wouldn't go well, but too tired to fight anymore. “I'll take them.”

 

* * *

 

 

“And to top it all off, a balsamic reduction with a touch of spearmint for mystery.” Fai’s weight shifted closer to their host over his counter full of fresh vegetables. They were artfully strewn with a seemingly careless elegance that had actually come about after five minutes of nervous fretting.

 

Opposite of him, Fuuma raised an eyebrow and grinned, tan and beautiful, oozing charisma. He was the only legitimate celebrity in the room, and it showed, the inexplicable pull palpable as Fai met his eye. “That’s awfully ambitious. Are you sure you’ll have enough time?”

 

And Fai smiled coyly, looking down at his little harvest, long graceful fingers caressing some tomatoes, just barely in the shot. “Don’t worry,” he said, voice lilting and glancing back up. “Don’t I always finish?”

 

As he watched Fuuma wander away with a spark in his eye, a trail of cameras following him, he slowly let the act fall, a knot forming in his stomach. He had _so_ much to do.

 

“Why does your accent always get more pronounced when you’re on camera?” Kurogane asked lowly, a sudden, looming presence at his side.

 

Fai flinched, but quickly recovered. Why was he so quiet, sneaking up on people like that? “I don't know. Why are you always flexing your pecs for them?”

 

“I don't!”

 

“You absolutely do though.”

 

Fai looked over, smiling, expecting some other bite back from their resident scary grump of a contestant, but instead he was simply gone, back turned and at his own station. And it was then that Fai started to get really nervous.

 

* * *

 

“You’re  behind,’ Kurogane would murmur, every time he walked by, prepping some other sauce or garnish for Fai’s ambitious starters.  
  
“Yes! Thank you Kurogane, I hadn’t noticed.” Only the most oblivious could miss his sarcasm by now.

 

“You should give me another element,” he said lowly, hands working fast but precise as he laid individual slices of strawberry on plate after plate, each unique but uniform, at the perfect angle Fai had asked him for. Fai allowed himself to spend a few seconds of his precious time being jealous. Kurogane’s knife skills... His slicing of the delicate fruit was perfect.

 

Better than he could have done.

 

“You’re running out of time.”

 

“I’m not!”

 

The continued in furious, whispered conversation, still smiling in case they were in the back of someone else’s shot.

 

“There’s no time. Let me help you!”

 

“No! I can zest a lime in a minute, Kurogane.”

 

Kurogane growled, eyes intense but body restrained. “Then who is going to slice your philo, Fai?”

 

And the dread was instant, lime and knife abandoned on the cutting board with a bounce and a clatter as Fai dashed away hoping and praying the forgotten companion to his dish wasn't already burnt.

 

* * *

 

“Gorgeous,” Watanuki spoke almost an hour later, turning the plate this way and that. Fai and Kurogane stood forward in the line, Kurogane somber as he always was at judging, Fai with a nervous smile. “Truly, I could photograph this and put it on my wall.”

 

“Thank you,” Fai spoke, relieved to get the positive feedback. His eyes tracked hopefully to Yuuko. Watanuki was the easy judge, last year’s winner and famous for finding something positive to say about almost every dish. Yuuko, a veteran of the field with her own resturants all over the world, was not nearly as forgiving.

 

She raised a fork to her mouth, staring them both down relentlessly as she considered his dish. “It’s well executed,” she said finally, eyes narrowing. “I’m just not sure that it means anything.”

 

Fai’s eyebrow raised, and he spoke before he could bite his tongue. “‘Mean’s anything?’” he asked, polite smile almost slipping.

 

And she caught him. Absolutely she did. She was the same on TV as she was in person. Meticulous and relentless. “It feels like you’re not even in this dish. I see tricks. Where is the substance? And Kurogane, did you have any say in these flavors? You’ve never given me something this desperate.”

 

She was just as brutally honest.

 

“No ma’am.”

 

Her eyes narrowed. “You two realize these are team challenges right? There's nothing here even approaching fusion.”

 

And to that all Fai could do was apologize, not that she seemed very interested in that either.

 

Finally he turned to their third and final judge, famous businessman very recently turned restaurateur, Seishiro Sakurazuka.

 

He was frowning.

 

He took a long minute to stare at the food. Then at Fai. He could already imagine some cheesey suspense music playing over the moment of tension, and did his best to keep a straight face.  
  
“It’s… bitter,” Seishiro finally said, obvious distaste in his voice.

 

And Fai almost laughed. Of course the bitter greens salad he had served him was bitter. He waited for one of the other two chefs, (the real chefs) to correct him. He had an indulgent little smile ready to laugh off the whole situation.

 

But the time stretched. And Yuuko and Watanuki said nothing.

 

Slowly it dawned on him that no one was coming to his rescue. That we was actually being docked points because his salad tasted exactly how it was supposed to. That this fake judge was going to get to decide something so important.

 

He couldn't’ help but be absolutely furious.

 

“I’m… so sorry about that, Sir,” he said tightly, apology seeming like the best way out. “I’ll do better next time.”

 

“Let's hope so,” Seishiro said, a smile on his face.

 

Fai’s fists clenched white-knuckled behind his back, but he kept his mask on perfectly as he stepped back into the line, only for a moment catching the concern in Kurogane’s expression as he glanced his direction.

 

* * *

 

“Don’t let it get to you.”

 

“It’s not getting to me.”

 

Kurogane and Fai kept fidgeting at their stations, waiting for the crew to set up the next challenge. Kurogane had his knives, sharpening them over and over, needing the calming feeling of it way more than the blades did. All while Fai kept rolling his wrists, keeping them loose for the challenges ahead, especially dessert.

 

“Then stop cussing him out under your breath.”

 

Fai eyed him, suddenly suspicious, “I thought you didn’t speak French.”

 

“I don’t,” Kurogane murmured, just barely not rolling his eyes. “I don’t need to to figure that much out.”

 

Fai frowned, staring across the room at the makeup girl and Fuuma boredly ignoring each other as she powdered his nose. “Maybe I’m cursing you out.”

 

Kurogane followed his gaze, then stepped into his line of sight, forcing him to focus. It was almost… cocky? “No, so far you’ve complained about me in English. You want to make sure I know about it.”

 

Fai eyed him for a moment, then looked away at the other tables’ supplies, trying to figure out what they were up against.

 

“Who needs that much garlic?” Fai whispered under his breath, judging his redundant blonde nemesis from across the room. He let himself smile, feeling some cautious relief. No one could survive a recipe that misguided, could they? But when he looked back that moment of confidence disappeared. He was instead concerned with the way Kurogane had suddenly gone pale, looking into a small tank that had just been placed on their countertop. A blank-stared trout looked back at them.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t kill it,” Kurogane said quietly, voice a hush as three whole minutes in, Fai’s portion of the meal was prepped and Kurogane still hadn’t moved beyond setting up and re-setting up his cutting board.

 

“What do you mean?” Fai hissed, trying not to draw the attention of the cameras. How Kurogane’s little bout of stage fright had stayed under the radar even this long was a mystery, but he wasn’t about to question such small mercies. “I saw you set the record for mackerel.”

 

A lot of people had. The title had been short lived, but the fame after the video had gone viral had lasted a little longer.

 

“You saw me fillet it, not kill it.”

 

“You…” Fai trailed off, not quite believing what he was hearing. “You’ve never killed a fish?”

 

Kurogane groaned and his relative composure started to slip.

 

“It’s easy!” Fai tried to reassure him, for once trying to be tactful without a camera rolling on him. “You just take the knife and-”

 

“No,” A hard crimson gaze met Fai’s and he fell silent. “I know how. I just _can’t_.”

 

Fai’s mouth gaped in total bewilderment, many things all struggling to come out at once. Why-? Was it a moral thing? Fear? Did Kurogane happen to share his total disgust for the slimy, slippery nature of it? How on earth had he made it this far as a chef specializing in sushi if he couldn’t kill a fish?

 

Fai _almost_ asked, but at the last second a look from Kurogane shut him up once more.

 

“That’s fine,” Fai said, face suddenly a little more somber.

 

“How is that-?!”

 

But quick as anything, Fai pulled up his sleeve and reached into the tank, hand wrapping around the trout before he could think about it hard enough to let the aversion dissuade him. With a soft thud on the cutting board the deed was done.

 

As Fai’s eyes widened, staring at his dripping arm in soft horror, he heard the soft inhalation of shock behind him.

 

“Is that…?” Fai asked quietly, voice tight.

 

“I can clean it from there.”

 

With a slightly desperate speed, Fai nodded, set the knife to the counter and more or less ran away, keeping himself from making faces as he rushed to their sink and started to wash off.

 

* * *

 

Back at his own counter, Fai started feeling better. His jellies had set. His grilled vegetables cooled. It had taken longer than expected in the heat of the busy room, and of course that’s when Fuuma had pounced, trying to catch him off guard.  But he’d kept his composure, flirting, laughing and being as charming as possible while internally screaming about every lost second.

 

Eventually Fuuma had mercifully moved on, and Fai was free to step back and take stock.

 

Which was when he noticed the stove.

 

“Kurogane!” he hissed, scurrying to the chef’s side, almost pushing him out of the way to see the fillet browning in the pan. “This was not the plan!”

 

“I know,” he said, much calmer but absorbing a touch of Fai’s panic. “But you said you were grilling vegetables. I thought they’d be hot. We can’t both do cold.”

 

Fai held back a small scream. He’d tried to explain that so many times last night.

 

“What are you putting on that?” Fai asked, eyeing the bowl Kurogane was using to season the fish. “You can’t just change the flavor profile on me!”

 

“It’s okay,” Kurogane cut in quickly, “Try it.” And with his other hand Kurogane held out the small dish.

 

Fai did, dipping a finger in and eyeing him suspiciously, but when he put it to his mouth…

 

Rosemary. Sage. An infused salt and just a touch of tarragon. And something unfamiliar he couldn’t quite place, but wanted more of. Most importantly, none of the over powering fishiness he was used to when people tried to cook them back home.

 

“Oh!”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“But how-?”

 

Finally Kurogane looked at him, eyes betraying the testiness the rest of him was repressing. “I’m a chef, Fai. I know how to cook a fish.”

 

“That blends perfectly.”

 

“I know.”

 

Fai looked from his counter to Kurogane’s, a small measure of relief washing through him but…

 

“It’s not enough,” Fai said quietly, stomach going a little sour and gazing at the rest of the tables. “It’s good but it’s not enough.”

 

Kurogane swallowed, staring down at his fish, looking like he might start arguing again, then doing a quick scan of the room and falling silent. “It’s not.”

 

“What do we do?”

 

But Kurogane smiled, eyeing the fireplace, moving to take a rack out of the oven. “Time for a gimmick.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re a genius,” Fai smiled under his breath, doing his best to tend to the fish and look useful as the two of them crouched in front of the show’s iconic hearth, Kurogane’s obnoxious muscles finally coming in handy as he held the grill just above the flames, the trout cooking perfectly. Every camera was on them and even some of the other contestants were starting to look worried.

 

Kurogane smirked, and Fai felt a little flutter in his stomach. “For all you think you’re an expert,” Kurogane spoke lowly, just enough for Fai to hear, “Don’t forget Iron Chef was a Japanese show. We invented contrived cooking excitement. I know what I’m doing.”

 

Fai gasped with a conspiratorial smile, heart beating a little faster.  

 

Kurogane glanced around, seeing just how close the mics were before tunning his back to the cameras, this private little space before the fire, the two of them and a moment to pass secrets.

 

“You think I went viral on accident?”

 

Fai grinned wide, delighted and… and for the first time actually having fun during the competition. “Kurgs!” he cried out, laughing and nudging his shoulder. “I never would have guessed!”

 

* * *

 

It could have been perfect. Fai was sure they would have won. If not for the camera cord, invisible, black on black flooring as he carried the tray of fish from the fire to the judging stations.

 

The first thing was the sudden disorientation of being on the floor. A split second later was the searing pain as the grill burned into his palm.

 

It was at least an hour later that Kakei called from the emergency room, dismissing everyone with call to return at noon tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

And it was much later still that Kakei helped Fai back into the house, not leaving until he’d promised him three times in a row that he would be fine. He then wandered into the kitchen, drawing himself a glass of water and finding the child safe lid of his painkillers surprisingly difficult to manage one handed and still a little high on the stuff from the hospital.

 

Then suddenly, a voice behind him...

 

“Need help?”

 

“Merde!” Fai started, turning around and throwing the pill bottle in reflex. Just as automatically Kurogane caught it, even on the crooked course Fai’s non-dominate hand had sent it. Then they both stood still for a moment.

 

“Sorry, I-”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

Another moment.

 

“Should I…?” Kurogane raised the bottle, pills softly shifting inside.

 

“Please.”

 

Fai took one, quietly gracious, and let himself climb onto one of the bar stools, resting his hand gingerly on the counter top. “Where is everyone?”

 

“Bed. It’s late.”

 

“And the camera men? I thought Kakei would want the triumphant return.” The quiet sarcasm was so different from how he let himself be when he was being recorded.  

 

Kurogane started to fidget, drawing himself another glass of water, eye wandering back to Fai’s hand again and again. “Kakei sent them home. We’re finishing the round tomorrow. I don’t think there's the budget to film both this close to the end.”

 

Fai nodded slowly. “But you’re still up?”

 

Kurogane’s gaze floated up to actually meet his eye. “I told the others I’d make sure you were okay.”

 

Fai was too worn down not to be grateful. “Thank you,” he said softly, and Kurogane just grunted. “You can ask,” he eventually muttered, knowing Kurogane was dying to know.

 

“What’s the prognosis?”

 

Fai sighed, gingerly starting to unwrap some of the gauze.

 

“Are you sure you should…?”

 

Fai just laughed a little bitterly. It certainly couldn’t make anything worse. The palm he uncovered was angry and red, lined with parallel stripes from the grill, dark angry purples and reds, blisters already forming.

 

Kurogane winced seeing it, but managed not to react too badly.

 

“It should heal fine,” Fai said, voice low and heavy. “In about two weeks.”

 

Just enough time to completely miss the rest of the competition.

 

“What are you going to do?” Kurogane asked quietly.

 

“Quit with dignity and take out another loan?”

 

But the look Kurogane gave him told him that clearly wasn’t good enough.

 

“What?! Like I’m supposed to cook one handed?”

 

“Your knife skills are horrible,” Kurogane said matter of factly, just a hint of a smile in his eyes. “I’m sure no one would even notice.” Fai was about to argue back, but Kurogane cut him off once more. “I mean it. Teach me whatever I need to do tomorrow. Then figure out some recipes that will work for the next challenge.”

 

Fai just looked up at him, seeing the famous no nonsense stubbornness he’d grown familiar with from afar for the past few weeks. This was dumb and he was tired but a part of him didn’t want to go out like this either.

 

“Okay,” he said, quietly giving in.

 

“Okay?”

 

“Okay, get out the sugar. Your lesson starts now.”

 

* * *

 

“This tastes awful.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Way too sweet.”

 

Fai laughed softly to himself. “Maybe, but Seishiro is on the judging panel.”

 

Kurogane made a soft little scoff behind Fai. “And you’ll sell out to him like that?”

 

“If it means winning? Absolutely.” It’s not like it cost him to wink and work in the occasional double entendre.

 

Kurogane’s palms were shockingly gentle as they ghosted the backs Fai’s wrists, fingers lightly laying across the back of his hands. There were things about piping that you sometimes just couldn’t put into words. This was how Ashura had taught him the more subtle motions needed to control, curve and ornament. If they only had a night to try and make Kurogane into a baker, then he’d have to learn like this too.

 

And to be honest, the touch was nice. Very distracting from the throbbing that wouldn’t go away on his palm.

 

“So you’re not…”

 

Fai looked up over a shoulder at him curiously. For someone so blunt, it was odd to see Kurogane hesitate like this. “Not what?”

 

“When you flirt with him…”

 

Fai’s eyes shot open, and his hands stuttered under Kurogane’s touch. “No! No, that’s just… No.”

 

“Okay.” Kurogane wouldn’t look at him, suddenly concentrating on the tray of templates Fai had scrawled under some parchment paper. “Good.”

 

“Good?” Fai asked, just a touch of lilt,, not able to stop the small smile.

 

And at last it was too much, and Kurogane retreated. “I think I’m ready for the real thing.”

 

Fai just smiled and carefully stepped away to give him more room. With one hand he took up the bag again, and gingerly passed it over. “Gently now.”  

 

“I know,” he said quietly, accepting it and starting to practice. After a few minutes, there wasn’t much Fai could instruct him on, most of it just up to repetition and muscle memory.

 

“This almost looks like writing,” Kurogane said much later, hands tired, but starting to give him consistent results. They were nowhere as smooth or effortless looking as when Fai did them, but for a beginner it was certainly nothing to be ashamed of.

 

“Does it?”

 

Kurogane nodded, concentrating on turning a corner without letting the line wobble. “I’ve got this. You should eat.”

 

Fai made a face but when Kurgoane grunted at him he actually got up. “Are you going to give me grief about being a skinny chef?”

 

“No, but I saw your pill bottle and there's a big red warning label saying you shouldn’t take them on an empty stomach.

 

Fai laughed softly, glad that wasn’t a talk Kurgoane was going to try and have. He kept glancing back as he sorted through leftovers, catching Kurogane do the same as he practiced. “I don’t feel like cooking.”

 

“Then steal something. You were in the ER. I think you’re allowed to do pretty much anything.”

 

Fai smiled. He wasn’t sure that logic tracked but… well, he had missed dinner. And as his eyes roamed the shelves, there _were_ container after container of half assembled dishes from practice runs. “Oh… this looks nice,” Fai murmured, taking out a light green creme patissiere he’d seen going into a deconstructed pie the round before. He caught Kurogane making a face but before he could say anything, Fai had a fingertip in his mouth and a little frown of disgust. “And tastes like gogurt.”

 

“Real food,” Kurogane grumbled from the counter, hands moving much more confidently now.

 

“Okay mister grumpy…” Fai had an awkward time trying to get the lid snapped on, and his hand was in just enough pain not to care about the obvious indentation he’d left behind. He juggled it back into place, then spent a few more moments poking and prodding the leftovers, willing something to jump out at him and suddenly look delicious. Then, just in time, modest and unassuming in the back corner… “Awww... Sakura’s tomato bisque.”

 

He caught  Kurogane looking at him again, but tried not to think about it too hard as he pried the lid off and poured out a little into a coffee mug one handed. After a little moment of internal deliberation, he decided to make a second as well, putting them both in the microwave. When the timer went off, he carefully took both handles in one hand, bringing them both over and offering one.

 

Kurogane finally set the practice bag down and sat down next to Fai. He accepted, sniffing it, then tasting thoughtfully. “Tomato soup?”

 

“Sakura’s. She won’t be needing it here, right?”

 

“It's good.”

 

“Yes.” Fai had helped when the girl had asked for his opinion, adding a few more touches that could challenge a picky judge, but the heart and soul of it was all her. “She was talented.”

 

“Mmm.”

 

Some minutes passed, quietly enjoying the unintentional little gift she’d left them. It was warm and comforting. Made with love.

 

“Fai?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I don’t want this to be your last night here.”

 

Fai looked at him in soft surprise. Kurogane was always so serious. Even now. “It’s a competition, Kurgs.” Kurogane looked away, frowning at the mess they’d left on the counter. “Hey,” Fai reached over, touching the back of his hand, and he met the quiet sadness of Kurogane’s gaze with a reassuring smile. “I’ll try my best.” There. Technically it wasn’t even a lie.

 

Then Kurogane was leaning in, and Fai gasped softly. Just short of actually touching him, Kurogane froze, then started to lean away. “Sorry. You’re not… You’re on pain killers. I didn’t mean to- I shouldn’t-”

 

But then Fai had a hand around the back of his neck. “They didn’t even give me the good stuff,” he assured him, before pulling Kurogane back in for a quiet kiss.

 

* * *

 

Fai did his best to look busy the next day in competition, but he was for all intents and purposes ornamental. And though Kurogane’s efforts were astounding for someone so new, they just weren’t up to Watanuki’s aesthetic standards.Yuuko had once again pointed out there wasn’t really anything fusion to the dish. That and the day they’d had before wasn’t enough to cut it anymore.

 

Well, at least Seishiro had liked it.

 

When they called his name, Fai was ready to carry his plate forward, calm and dignified. Fuuma was talking as he did so, but that was for the audience. As far as he was concerned, it was a million miles away. His attention was taken up by the careful swirls decorating the slice of cake, and the careful protective hand at his back, as if he might manage to fall again.

 

For a moment he looked up at Kurogane. The disappointment was sharp in his eyes. The poor kid thought they’d actually had a chance. But then he glanced down at Fai, broad hand petting ever so subtly at his back and he gave a slight  nod.

 

Fai took a breath in, and held the plate out in front of him. With inevitable finality, he turned it sideways, their little creation falling to the flames with a thud and hiss.

 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry,” Fai said quietly as the crew gave them room to themselves. They had already filmed them hanging up their chef’s jackets and when it became clear neither of them was going to cry, they moved on to the important work of dramatically filming the dirty dish Fai had left on the counter. It felt so strange being ignored again. A relief and a loss all at the same time.

 

“It’s okay,” Kurogane answered in turn, gaze catching on his hand over and over. “It’s not your fault.” He frowned, trying to figure out what he was trying to say. “I bet the fish was delicious.” Even though Fai had saved it, no one had bothered to try it in the aftermath.

 

Fai made a face. “I don’t know,” he teased. “Fish is still fish.”  

 

“Tch.”

 

A door opened on the far side of the room, and Kakei entered, talking to the crew but making his way over to debrief them one last time. Suddenly it all felt real. They were going home. It was over.

 

“Fai?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Both their voices were betraying a touch of anxiousness.

 

“What are you doing after this?”

 

Fai frowned, not quite sure which context Kurogane meant. “Beside packing? And getting on a plane back to France?”

 

“No, I mean… We should go out. Let me take you to dinner before…” He leaned back suddenly, catching Kakei starting to approach them. “You know,” he finished, letting Kakei hesitate politely while he waited on Fai’s answer.

 

“I… Yeah.” Fai nodded softly, managing a smile for the first time since their names had been called. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

**Next on this year’s reunion special, we catch up with some old Into the Fire fan favorites from seasons past. After the break, a surprising new partnership that’s sweeping the nation.**

 

* * *

 

 

“And this?” Yuuko asked, sitting at the bench under the umbrella, looking oddly casual after seeing her formally dressed on the show for so many years.

 

“That’s the Kurger Burger,” Fai smiled.

 

Kurogane huffed as Yuuko gave him a shrewd look, “The name wasn’t my idea.”

 

“Mmm! But it’s delicious!” Yuuko groaned, taking a few bites before going back for the fries.

 

It was so different being with her without the others in tow. For once Fai could almost forget about the cameras over either of their shoulders. In the peaceful sunlight and with the noise from the park drifting over, it almost felt like this was just lunch with an old friend.

 

“So I have to ask,” Yuuko leaned in, curiosity like a spark in her eye, “With both of your backgrounds… a food truck? Really?”

 

Fai laughed and Kurogane just smiled, taking another fry from the basket.

 

“Well, sometimes it’s okay to start small,” Fai explained, looking up at Kurogane and softly bumping his shoulder. “Plus this way we can go wherever we want. See new places and people whenever things start to feel stale.”

 

“And how is business?”

 

This question was scripted of course. Yuuko knew about their following. But Kurogane smirked and played along anyway, pulling out his phone. “Watch this.”

 

Within twenty minutes, the call had gone out and a single tweet had gathered a small mob, excited diners starting to grow more and more impatient as they waited in line.

 

Yuuko continued with the interview until at last she had to let them go. They said their goodbyes and Kurogane took Fai’s hand to help him up from the bench. They crossed the short distance, low voices drown out by the waiting crowd and laughing at some private joke. Kurogane held the door to the truck open and Fai followed him up the short steps, turning at the top with one last smile for the cameras.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Taako won btw.


End file.
